


The Sting of Self-Denial

by mardia



Category: Beatrice Hyde-Clare Mysteries - Lynn Messina
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: “Brat,” Damien says, watching as his fiancee’s mouth curves upward in a slow, teasing smile. “Every scandalous thing I have done has been at your instigation!”“So we could just add this one to the list then,” Beatrice retorts, shameless as always, and just laughs merrily at the expression on his face.





	The Sting of Self-Denial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natacup82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natacup82/gifts).



_

“We must get married at once, my love, for I am not accustomed to the sting of self-denial.”

_

From _An Infamous Betrayal_.

Damien Matlock, Duke of Kesgrave, is discovering his newfound status as an officially betrothed man to be both delightful and frustrating in equal measure. 

Much like his fiancee, now that Damien thinks of it. 

But truly, one would think that his status as a duke would guarantee that Damien’s every wish and desire would be quickly granted, and yet for all of his vast wealth and his grand title and all the privileges that come with it, he is somehow _still_ not wed to Beatrice Hyde-Clare. It should of course be noted--and Damien _has_ noted it, frequently and with great frustration--nothing about the current delay to his nuptials is his fault.

The problem, as detailed to him by his mother, his grandmother, and Lady Abercrombie, is that Beatrice has been the cruel victim of her aunt’s atrocious bad taste and outrageous neglect, and apparently does not have a single stitch of clothing worth of her future role as the Duchess of Kesgrave. 

“Not a single thing!” his mother had declared, in tones of mingled amazement and dismay. “Truly, I’d never thought of Vera Hyde-Clare as a miserly penny-pincher before this--truthfully, I’d never thought of her at all--but that is the only explanation possible. We have to start completely from scratch with Beatrice.”

“Not _completely_ from scratch, I hope,” Damien had replied. “I rather like Beatrice as she is.”

“Yes, I had noticed, dear,” his mother had replied, amused. “But surely you can enjoy your fiancee's charms and graces when she’s wearing a dress that doesn’t make her look like a consumptive.”

But between reworking Beatrice’s entire wardrobe and the endless debate over whether the marriage should occur at St. George’s or at the family estate in Cambridgeshire (Lady Abercrombie is pushing for St. George, his mother for Cambridgeshire, and Beatrice’s aunt mindlessly agreeing with whoever speaks last), the actual date of their wedding day keeps getting delayed, and it’s Damien’s rotten luck that no one involved in this wedding is remotely intimidated by him at the slightest. 

Truly, his life is such a hardship. 

*

“We could always run off to Gretna Green,” Beatrice suggests to him the next afternoon at tea, that familiar mischievous gleam appearing in her dark eyes as she speaks. 

Damien shoots her what he means to be an unamused look over his cup, but he already knows that Beatrice can see the amusement in his own face at her outrageous suggestion. “I would certainly like to know what has given you the impression I would ever behave in such a scandalous manner,” he retorts.

Beatrice beams at him. “You mean to ignore the entire history of our acquaintance, I see,” she says sweetly. “While I commend your creative interpretation of past events, my dear Duke, I must deplore your less-than-truthful retelling. Or do I need to remind you of the time you climbed into my bedchamber and observed me in my night rail well before we were engaged, let alone married?”

“Brat,” Damien says, watching as his fiancee’s mouth curves upward in a slow, teasing smile. “Every scandalous thing I have done has been at your instigation!”

“So we could just add this one to the list, then,” Beatrice retorts, shameless as always, and just laughs merrily at the expression on his face. 

She’s happier these days, Damien thinks. He’s not so arrogant to believe it is _all_ due to him and the glittering ring he’s put on her finger, or that Beatrice cares so much for her rapid elevation in society. Rather, he thinks it’s the joy of being seen and valued for who she is, at finally escaping her aunt’s neglectful clutches to live with Lady Abercrombie until their wedding--a neat trick by dear Tilly, whisking Beatrice off before Beatrice’s relatives knew what she was about. 

“It would be quite a scandalous thing, I suppose,” Beatrice muses, her voice bringing Damien out of his brief reverie. 

“Very scandalous,” Damien says, in the most repressive tone he can manage. 

“But rather romantic too, don’t you think?” Beatrice continues in that same thoughtful voice, idly stroking her throat, her fingertips gliding across her collarbones and the hollow between them. “To cast aside convention and whisk away the woman you love off on a midnight ride to the border, marry her in secret, all because you can’t stand _not_ to have her, not for one more second…”

Damien’s breath catches in his throat, as he is utterly transfixed by her words, the dreamy expression in her eyes, the way that she caresses her own skin as if showing Damien the way that she wants him to caress _her_ \--

And then Beatrice lifts her hand away from her throat, and says lightly, “Of course, you are far more restrained and proper than that, and would never dream of behaving in such a manner. It’s just not in your nature, my dear Duke.”

“In my nature,” Damien repeats, slowly, rising up from his chair and stalking over to where Beatrice is watching him with interest, and she just laughs as he pulls her to her feet, pressing her body against his. “You utterly impossible, maddening--”

But Bea is already lifting her chin up for his kiss, and whatever else Damien was going to say is lost in the hot press of his mouth against hers, in the delicious feeling of Beatrice’s fingers tangling in his hair as she melts against him, warm and soft and his, just as he is hers. 

“Do you mean it?” Damien asks between kisses. “Would you really--”

“Ridiculous man,” Beatrice says fondly, her voice rising up on a gasp as Damien turns his attention to her lovely throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the pulsepoint there, his senses full of her soft skin and the faint scent of rosewater. “Of course I would, in a heartbeat.”

The only response to that is to kiss her again, as eagerly as if it were the first time. 

“I thought you wanted the spectacle,” Damien murmurs eventually, lifting his head to look her in the eyes. “The grand wedding for all the _ton_ to see, the gorgeous dress and the elaborate wedding breakfast--”

“I want _you_ ,” Beatrice says, her eyes shining as she looks up at him, all sincerity now, the teasing finally at an end. “The rest is wonderful, I’m not so foolish as to deny that, but it’s you that I’m marrying.” 

She leans forward again, her breath coming in warm puffs against his lips as she adds, her voice low and teasing, “Besides, as you were so kind to point out earlier--our entire acquaintance has been filled with scandalous behavior on both our parts. Shouldn’t our betrothal end the same way?”

“Minx,” Damien says fondly before kissing her again, and from the way Beatrice smiles against his mouth, she knows to take it as an assent. 

*

The elopement of Beatrice Hyde-Clare and the Duke of Kesgrave is the sort of dramatic, baffling affair that has members of the _ton_ dining out on it for weeks and months afterwards. Lady Vera Hyde-Clare is loudly incoherent in her disappointment, Damien’s family is distinctly unamused (as his mother takes pains to note) and Lady Abercrombie demands first rights over redoing their sitting room as recompense for missing out on the wedding. 

But Damien has his Beatrice, in his bed and in his home and as his _wife_ , at long last. And as he kisses the new Duchess of Kesgrave awake early one morning on their honeymoon, he acknowledges, if only to himself, that living a life of scandal does have its rewards.


End file.
